Silence... All was silence.
Have I gone mad? Arya thought as she surveyed her surroundings.
It was like one of those large paintings she had seen when she was little inside the Red Keep. A large living canvas with striking vivid colors. The red from the leaves gave you a warm sensation as if they where on fire. The pearl white snow breathed a gust of life through the wind versus the all consuming black death that eternally fought its antithesis.
See with your eyes girl. Syrio had said. "I am going mad" Arya whispered to the air, this wasn't a painting, this wasn't a bad dream. This was real. The leaves of the weirwoods were actually on fire; victim of one of the dragons, the gust of wind was hers trying to breathe properly after almost having her throat crushed. And the dead was certainly the most real, the dead bodies everywhere she looked the proof of it.
"I am going mad"- she said. Her whole body started to shake with a fear she honestly could say was the worse she'd ever felt.
"No you're not. Its the adrenaline from the battle, you're going to feel it now"- Bran said.
She had forgotten he was there. Here, in the Godswood, surrounded by this dreamlike scenario, her little brother was the most phantom like of all.
"Its over sister. You ended it. Take my hand"- he said. But Arya couldn't move, she was frozen. Her heart was beating at an abnormal rate and her throat was closing as if that thing still had her in its grasp. "Take my hand Arya"- Bran spoke again, this time with more authority. More Bran, less whatever he was now "They'll want to see you"-
This made her snap. She didn't want to see anyone. She needed air, she needed to get out. They were going to die, they were all going to die.
She ran. I can't take Bran with me, he'll only slow me down and I won't die. Her breathing was failing and she started to feel lightheaded. She saw shadows of dead men moving in the entrance of the Godswood. She clutched her dagger with intent but there were too many. She needed to get out or she'd be another dead body on the floor.
There was a door right beside the entrance. A separate entrance to the castle that no one ever used sans her mother. She ran towards it and once inside she knew she had made a grave mistake. "Must you actively look for your mother's scoldings child?"- her father's voice rang in her head.
She had done it now. Her feet where covered in mud, already soiling the entrance to the sept, her stench from practicing and fighting with the boys since dawn was spoiling the rich lavender scent that floated in the air. Her mother made them pray to the Seven at least once a week but Arya never cared for them, she felt at peace with the Old Gods like her father, but she respected the sept just the same... or maybe she feared more her mother's wrath.
She put down the little wooden sword she used for practicing and took off her shoes so she wouldn't dirty up the floor further more. She searched for the oils her mother used to cleanse the sept and if she was here she might as well light a candle or two. Yes, her mother and septa would definitely like that. It was a place of love; her mother had said, her father had the sept built specially for their mother once he learned he had to marry her.
But there was only one problem. She was too little to light the candle, she couldn't reach it. It was always Rob or her mother's task to lit the candles once the prayers began.
"Do you need some help young lady?"-
Arya turned around to see her mother standing at the entrance. She wore a dark green gown and her hair was braided in a long ponytail.
"Mother!" Arya cried. "Oh mother, I've missed you!"
Her mother laughed engulfing her in a warm embrace. When was the last time she saw her mother? She remembered a distant dream, of her swimming in a river surrounded by banners. A wicked dream it was.
"Come, pray with me since we are together"- Catelyn said lighting a candle. Curiously enough once she held it close to her body Arya noticed she was wearing a scarf, and it had little drops of blood around her neck.
"Now child, don't just stand there. Don't you want to pray to your God?"- catelyn said, turning around and setting the candle in front of the Stranger.
The walls quickly changed and she found herself in Braavos, buried in the walls of the house of Black and White.
Her mother now walked towards the small fountain and gathered water in a small cup offering to her. "Drink. This will make you feel better"- the woman said, for it was, yet it wasn't her mother at the same time. Her hands were pale and scarred, her hair was lifeless and blotchy, she wore all black but with no scarf to hide the hideous gash in her neck. No, this is not my mother; Arya thought. This is another test.
When she didn't move her mother ran towards her so fast that Arya couldn't react. She grabbed her by the throat, making her feet dangle in the air. "Look at you, what have you done to your hair?"- her mother spat at her. "No one will marry you now"- Arya now realized that she was in her apprentice grabs and her hair was starting to grow back again.
As her mother squeezed her throat harder, Arya's vision began to blur but she never fought back. She was tired, so tired! She was tired of running, tired of being scared, of being alone in the world and seeing her loved ones taken away from her.
With a nod her mother understood. Pride in her ice blue eyes. She offered her the cup again but as she was about to drink it she heard someone.
"ARYA! ARYA! PLEASE, WHERE ARE YOU?"- A man's voice, deep with a feeling strong behind the words.
On pure instinct Arya slapped the cup away. Her mother made a horrible shriek making her ears bleed. Catelyn dropped her violently on the floor, her lack of strength making Arya take a blow right in the head as she fell. She felt dizzy again and her throat hurt.
"Let's see what your Old Gods can do to help you now you stupid girl"- her mother spat. But was it her mother? Her voice sounded like Cersei, Jaqen and her mother at the same time.
Tricks, all dirty tricks designed for you to lose. Arya found herself alone yet again, this time inside a small room. She was battered, and broken but most of all she was so, so tired.
She laid down over bags of grain and closed her eyes not before she lit a yellow candle in front of the door.
I shall pray to the Smith and he will protect me. He will protect me as will you mother, as will father and Rob the warrior. The long night ended. I ended it.
I will not die.
Not today.
She finally fell asleep and the smith indeed came for her cradling her in his arms. He pried the dagger from her fingers and they both fell asleep.
This is a companion for my other story What Should Have Been.
Feel free to check it out and leave your review
XOXO